


Where I Stand

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Nightwing (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Advice, Angst too, Bonding, Fluff, Gen, and Dick has an important question, it's fluffy, so there might be the tinyist bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 20:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: Clark comes home one night to find Dick Grayson in his kitchen in need of some advice.





	Where I Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Laquilasse (laquilasse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laquilasse/gifts).



> This is for the amazing Laquilasse, happy birthday!!

“I didn’t give you a key so I could find you in my kitchen at three A.M. eating Jon’s cereal.” Clark said, flicking on the lights above Dick. Any minor question of his friend's visit being an emergency fled out of his mind the moment Dick Grayson came into full view, the man sat in a sweatshirt and jeans eating Lucky Charms out of one of Jon's favorite bowls. 

Dick grinned around the spoon in his mouth and said, “You didn’t give me a key at all.” 

Clark shook his head and held back a smile, “Did you let Lois know you were here?”

Dick popped the spoon out and planted it back in the bowl, “She said you’d be back soon, and to help myself. I’m pretty sure she meant real food, but I was never one to pass up these amazing tiny marshmallows.” he fished out a few soggy looking rainbows and moneybags to prove his point. 

Clark chuckled, I’m sure she’d be about as happy with your choice as she is when it’s Jon’s pick for breakfast.” 

Dick grinned, “Always happy to give Lois something to lecture me about. I’m guessing you broke and bought them for Jon?” 

Clark nodded as he moved in beyond the doorway and towards the counter, “He’s a growing boy, and burns through that sugar faster than he can even eat it. It won’t hurt him to indulge a little.” 

He started a pot of coffee, watching Dick from the corner of his eye. After years of unannounced visits and fighting alongside the boy, now man, Clark could tell his mood easily. Despite his jovial attitude there was something bothering him. There were few people who could pick up on the signs, shoulders ever so slightly tightened, voice a little too quick to jump to answer. His heart rate was elevated just a bit, and Clark was sure it wasn’t because of the sugar he was consuming.

“How’s Bludhaven been?” He asked, making small talk. 

Dick Grayson was not one to stay silent for long when he wanted to talk, but he was also likely to clam up. He was like Bruce that way, he’d hold in personal matters until they ate him alive, choosing instead to focus on everyone and everything but his own issues.  

“Patrol’s been good, it’s been a week of slow nights.” Dick answered. 

Clark hummed, turning to lean against the counter, “Slow’s always good. Gives you time to settle in.”

Dick turned his chair to face him, his bowl in his lap now. This wasn’t one of his ‘I was in town’ visits or he’d have started with that. Neither was it a complaining or angry at Bruce visit. Small talk didn’t happen until Dick was back in a good mood, and that didn’t happen until he’d managed to fully vent. No this had to be an advice one. What advice he was looking for, Clark hadn’t figured out yet.

Dick shrugged, “That’s going even slower. I can understand how people have unpacked boxes years after they’ve moved into a place.”

It wasn’t about work, or his move. Dick didn’t have that longing in his voice that came when he was regretting a decision. Clark kept gently probing him with general questions, letting Dick as some of his own. He kept an easy distance while Dick stayed seated, answering and asking questions around spoonfuls of cereal. 

The pot was half full by the time Dick stood to wash his bowl out and put it in the dishwasher, and Clark was starting to wonder if he’d misread the situation. He didn’t want to push, and he didn’t want to give Dick time to talk himself out of whatever he’d come for, but he wasn’t sure he was here for anything. Well anything beyond a friendly chat. He decided to just ask.

“You just in town for a bit then? Got a case your working since the Blud is so slow?” 

Dick closed the dishwasher and sighed, leaning his hip into the counter, with his arms crossed. “You’re a dad.” 

Yes. He was, Clark wasn’t sure what Dick was getting at. Unless...Dick had seemed on edge, but Clark would have guessed if he was going where he thought he might be. But he couldn’t be sure. Could he really? Was Dick about to ask him for parenting advice? Was--was Dick Grayson about to be a father? The joy that bubbled up at that idea was enough to make Clark grin.

“Well, while I’m surprised I have to say,” he said, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “congratulations are in order.”

“What?” Dick blinked at him, confused. Then his mouth dropped open and he jumped back, away from Clark’s hand, both his going up in defense, “No! No, that is not--I didn’t mean to make you think--I’m not here because of that. It’s about Damian.” 

“Oh,” Clark said, he couldn’t mask the little bit of disappointment that seeped into his voice at hearing he wouldn’t get to see a baby Grayson any time soon, but he squared his shoulders, intent on helping anyway, “I see. Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry. I worded that weird. Of course I’ll let you know the moment that happens, but I’m not, I mean- I--”

“It’s fine, I threw you off. I’d be happy to be a Great Uncle, but only when you’re ready.” He said, giving Dick a wink. 

Dick sighed, “Thank you.” he said, picking at the sleeve of his sweatshirt, “Honestly I’m not even sure I should be here asking about this. Damian’s not my-he’s- well he’s Bruce’s kid. I’m not raising him anymore, so I don’t know if I should even be worried about this.”

“I think you’d better start from the beginning.” Clark said, motioning him back towards the kitchen table, “I’ll pour us both some coffee while you collect your thoughts.” 

“Thanks.” Dick sighed.

He fell into the chair he’d just left while Clark pulled down two mugs and filled them with fresh coffee. He added milk and sugar to both, dumping in an extra spoon of the stuff for Dick before giving them both a good swirl and taking them to the table. 

Dick’s hands immediately wrapped around his mug and he stared down into the liquid, his face contemplative. 

“So,” Clark said, taking the seat across from him, “What’s going on with Damian?”

Dick looked up from his coffee, “He came to me today complaining about Bruce. He’s done it before, when he’s frustrated about being benched, or when he feels like Bruce is smothering him, but this time was different. He was crying.” 

Dick’s eyes went back to his coffee and he took a sip, then another. Clark waited, he’d had plenty of experience with kids (Dick in particular) coming to him upset over something their parent had done, but Clark had a feeling this wasn’t really about that. Dick was competent enough with Damian to handle the situation easily, he’d seen it himself once or twice. They were good together, a lot like Clark and Dick were. 

Dick finally set the mug back down and looked up at Clark, “The details of why don’t really matter beyond Damian misunderstanding him, but it made me wonder if this is all right for him.” He tapped a finger on his mug, “Bruce has so much on his plate, and I don’t want to take Damian away from him, I don’t want to be his dad. But at the same time I don’t want to have to keep cleaning up after Bruce. And I don’t even know if it’s that that’s bothering me.” 

Dick sighed, “It’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be worried about this. Damian was fine after all. I just, I guess I don’t know what role I’m supposed to have anymore.” 

There it was. That tone in his voice, the one that said Dick was afraid he’d made a mistake. Clark could almost hear the gears turning in his head, the questions starting all the way if taking him in was the right thing, and moving to the question of if he should have insisted Damian stick with him after Bruce returned. 

Clark shook his head, “You love Damian, and want what’s best for him, that’s never a stupid feeling to have. What you and Damian have is complicated, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.” 

Dick nodded, “I guess my problem is that I’m confused. Damian comes to me with things I would have taken to Bruce as a kid. And Bruce doesn’t always do things the way that I know they’d work for him.” 

Dick continued, “I mean, they worked for me. And I’m sure a lot of the things he does, and how he tackles problems worked with Jason and Tim, but some of them just make things worse when it comes to Damian. I don’t want to sound critical, I love Bruce and I love how much he’s trying with Damian.”

Clark hummed, “Do you think Damian wants you to replace Bruce? If you think that’s why he’s coming to you, and not because he needs to vent or wants a different opinion then I think you need to have a serious talk with Bruce.” 

Dick pressed his lips together, hands pulling away from the mug to wrap together. “I don’t think he wants that.”

He stood, the chair scraping away from the table, “I don’t really know what he wants, and that’s part of the problem.” 

He paced the length of the table, thinking. Clark let him, sipping on his coffee, waiting him out. He’d learned that sometimes it was best to let people, let Dick, talk out their problems. Work out what the root was, and maybe even the answer.

“I do think he still sees me as more than his brother. I--” Dick started, “I want what’s best for him, and I don’t know how to give him that.” 

Clark smiled at him, “Everyone wants what's best for their kids.” 

Dick turned and put his hands on the back of the chair, sliding it forward a bit and making a scratching sound, against the tile, “He’s not my--I’m not--I’m not his dad. I can’t be, I just told you that.” 

He let go and paced again, “I can’t be his dad, that’s what I mean. It’s not like I haven’t thought of it. Of course I have. I almost--I wanted to keep him when B came back. But I didn’t. I didn’t because I’m not, and never will be, his dad. I’m not the one Damian spent the first eight years of his life wanting to meet. I’m not him, Clark. I’m not.” Dick was panting, his pacing matching the flood of words pouring out of his mouth. 

“You might not be his father, but that doesn’t change the fact that you did raise him for a while.” Clark pointed out.

“I had to.” Dick said, his voice rising a bit at this, his hands waving in the air as he stopped to point at Clark, “There was no way I was sending him back to Talia. He deserved a loving home, not one that wanted him to be an assassin who’d take over the world.” the last word was a snap of anger, a reminder at how much Dick had tried to help Damian move past his early childhood, and how much he hated that his brother had to go through that. Clark could see it, hear it in the slight crack in his tone even at a near shout. 

“Boys.” 

Dick jumped at the voice, and Clark turned his head to see Lois silhouetted in the kitchen doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hair only slightly mussed from sleep, and her expression was something between scolding and understanding.

“Lois, hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Dick said.

She waved him off, “It’s fine, I can tell this is important, but why don’t you two take this conversation outside?” she suggested, “Unless you want to wake the kid with the budding super hearing.”

Clark winced, “Of course. I should have thought of that when I came in, sorry.” 

“It’s alright. I learned long ago that your friends show up more often at night than they do during the day.I’d just rather not deal with a cranky ten year old in the morning.” 

Dick grinned, “I know that feeling. The roof’s okay?”

She nodded and waved them off before turning to head back down the hall. 

Clark and Dick grabbed their mugs and made their way to the roof. They could have sat outside on a balcony, but Clark knew Dick, given the chance he’d get as high as he could, tonight that meant the roof. Rather than fly them both, Clark let Dick climb up, knowing he needed the movement.

They settled themselves, Dick leaning back to stare up at the stars, and Clark resting against the chimney, his coffee sitting next to him. He let the silence linger for a moment, let Dick get lost in his thoughts and wonderings.

“You know I think you did an amazing job with Damian while Bruce was gone.” he said at last.

Dick nodded, but didn’t look at him yet.

“A remarkable job, better even than Bruce could have done then. But now Bruce is back.” Clark told him, keeping his voice gentle, “And, I think you're trying to shoulder both jobs, brother and dad, when you don’t need to.” 

Next to him Dick shrugged like and seemed to want to argue. Clark knew what he’d say, that he had to and Damian was worth it. But he wasn’t seeing the bigger picture. 

“Do you trust Bruce?” He asked, before Dick could begin his defense.

Dick sat up and turned to him, face serious. “With my life.” 

“So why don’t you trust him with Damian?” 

“I do.” Dick said, and sighed, letting his head fall back, “This is what I meant by things being stupid.” 

“Think of it this way.” Clark said, “You used to come to me all the time. Crying, angry, confused, all of it stemming from something that happened with Bruce. What did you want from me then?” 

He sipped on his cooling coffee as Dick thought the question over, a finger running around the rim of his cup.

“An ear most of the time. Someone to agree that Bruce was being dumb. A shoulder to cry on when I was having a bad day.” Dick listed. 

“Did you want me to be your dad?” 

Dick shook his head, “No.” he tapped his finger against the mug again, “And Damian doesn’t want that from me. He’d probably feel stifled by it.” 

“Exactly. He needs you for the same reasons you needed me, and sometimes still do.” Clark told him, “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still go to Bruce if you see something really wrong. I know I stepped in from time to time.” 

Dick kicked his feet out in front of him on the roof, “Really? B never let on that you’d visited him.” 

Clark shrugged, “You learn to tell the difference between releasing frustration and a real issue.” 

“Like the time I showed up with a bag packed full of my clothes?” Dick asked.

“Exactly.” Clark nodded, “I think you’ve probably got an even better grasp on what’s working and not in Damian’s life than I had over yours back then.” 

Dick’s shoulders slumped again, “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

Clark smiled at him, “I’m the same way with Jon. I’ve realized a lot of it is trial and error. Damian will forgive you for messing up, just like Jon’s forgiven me time and again.”

“Ha, Damian’s already forgiven me for a lot, I had no idea what I was doing in the beginning with him.” Dick said.

Clark grinned at him, “I think we’re all that way.” 

“Yeah.” Dick nodded, “Speaking of Jon, I should probably apologize for Damian’s rubbing off on him. I’ve heard some of their stories, and I know Damian.” 

Clark finished off his coffee, “He’s good for Jon, and vise versa, even if they do get into some trouble.” 

“Trouble is part of growing up.” Dick told him, grinning. 

“Now who’s giving the ‘dad’ advice?” Clark asked.

Dick winked, “I don’t know about you, but trouble was my middle name as a kid.”

Clark elbowed him, “I’d argue it still is.” 

“All the more reason for me to give the advice on trouble.” Dick told him, “I bet you were the model of good behavior.” 

“Ha!” Clark said, shaking his head, “Then you don’t know me as well as you think. I could tell you some stories.” 

Dick leaned back, setting his mug beside him and raised an eyebrow, “Alright, Uncle Clark, tell me just how bad of a kid were you?”


End file.
